The Grassroots recap that never was and a Wine Tour recap

Sometimes I'll write a whole post up during one of Harrison's naps, then he wakes up, and instead of just posting it without any pictures, I scold myself that a real blogger would always have pictures, so I save it as a draft and promise myself that I'll come back to it with pictures ASAP and post. Sometimes that actually happens a lot, so in my head I think, "Oh yeah, I've blogged recently", when really, I failed and did not.

That happened with my post about Grassroots. I came away from Grassroots with only two pictures, and have since deleted one, so in the above theory, it's not even worth publishing. The takeaway from my summary is this: everyone needs to experience Grassroots. That is, everyone who likes to dance and listen to music. Grassroots is just a mingling of all types of people, all ages (literally saw a baby within weeks of the womb, and then a 70-year old man dancing like he was on acid), who all just want to have a great time relaxing, dancing, listening to amazing tunes. So there you have it. I had fun.

I can't say I had any more fun at Grassroots than I did this past Saturday though. Saturday was some of the most fun I've had in a while, probably because it reminded me more of my days at Geneseo than anything else... except for going back to Geneseo. All of my friends from Geneseo participated in our "annual" wine tour. However, it was my first, since surprise surprise, the first year I was at Grassroots, and last year I was about 39.3 weeks pregnant. So all in all, I had been looking forward to this experience for three years, no biggie.

From the years past, I had heard wild stories of the happenings of the wine tour, so I was very optimistic that this year would bring the same results. When you start drinking champagne at 11am, and don't stop until 6pm, that can happen. My highlights from the wine tour are as follows: dancing on the limo to some awesome 90s jams, the collection of like 70 corks given to me by one of the wineries for a wedding project,

The only proof that I was on a wine tour

 and getting accosted by the limo driver because of the members of our party got us "kicked off the property", which in actuality, no one believes happened.

Post wine-tour, we ate, had some coffee, some of us napped, and then we were ready for Part 2 of the night. If you read anything in this post, it's that I like to dance, so after hopping around a little, we ended up at the kinda-sketchy, kinda-scummy, but plays-great-tunes dance club, and I danced the night away. I definitely felt it the next morning, and actually I think we all did. Let's just say that Geneseo taught us well.

So now it's Monday, and this is Harrison's last week as a baby, aka a human less than the age of 1. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? I probably can't even bring myself to write a full post about his actual birthday, or about how I have a 1-year old, because I'm in denial and my only solution is to just pretend the growing stops now.

Are we laughing at my toupee of hair or... ?

In reality though, we are throwing a party for him on Sunday and I am really, really excited. Food, drinks, and frosting. I have a huge fear that he'll hate the cake, or be too fussy and swat it away, or just something preventing him from going to TOWN on that shit. Is it not the cutest thing when the babies bathe themselves in the frosting at the pure joy of tasting something that delicious? Because watch, my son will not grant me this joy and I'll forever be depressed. That, or I'll disown him, since Miller spawn MUST LOVE FROSTING (See Chocolate is my Life).

Are you as excited for Harrison's 1st Birthday as I am? If you're not, leave this blog and never come back.

This picture has no relevancy, just wanted you to all witness that perfect little hiney 

No Internet = No pictures = Boring Post

Just incase you were wondering, the move went well and yes, I'm still alive. However, we do not have internet or cable at the new house yet, so I don't want to get any texts about why I haven't blogged. I'm just a devotee who is spending valuable time that I could be using to sit around and watch all the shows I've missed, to blog to you from my parents'.

We enlisted the help of three of our friends to assist with the moving, as well as the babysitting skills of my parents to help with Harrison-duty. We whipped that shit out in mere hours, then sat around on our back porch drinking beers and eating cheeseburgers. Despite the food coma, I still had high hopes for myself to go out Saturday night. It was the big summer festival in the new town, meaning probably the one and only night it would be acceptable/exciting/fun to go out to the rinky-dink bars. However, the move took it right out of me, and I think I was in pajamas by 8pm. The only good that came from that was that I was up at 7am the next morning feeling (partly) well-rested to start the dreaded task of unpacking. My inner-Superwoman came out of me, and I finished up the unpacking by 2pm in order to go meet my very preggo bestie for lunch. Win win.

The next huge step in my motherhood career is about to be upon me. I am leaving Harrison for a whole weekend. Previously, I had left him for one night to attend the most magical event known to man, and that basically gave me a nervous breakdown. Somehow, I'm not as nervous about this one though.

Dave and I are going to the Grassroots Festival of Music and Dance. If you think that sounds like a haven for hippies, you are correct. It's three days of peace, love, and happiness... oh, and dancing. I have been looking forward to this festival since we went in 2011. Due to my 38 week pregnancy last year at this time, we were unable to go, but this year, I am dropping Harrison off at his grandparents and never looking back. Until Sunday, when we go pick him up.

Surprisingly, I think this will be an easier parting with Harrison than the last. For one, he's no longer nursing, as you know, and will drink milk from a cup, so that helps. Secondly, he is, I think, getting over the separation anxiety. Praise Jesus. Finally, he is actually more familiar with Dave's parents' house than our new house, so there's that too. And if worse comes to worse, we are only 2 hours away so I can put the pedal to the metal if I need to.

Most importantly, I am ok with leaving Harrison for a few days because I need a vacation, and the lovely Trumansburg, NY is it. So for those of you who go to Florida every 3 months but complain that you never get a vacation, read this, and think again...

Carnies and Cows

Over the past two days, I have been at a very interesting place, to put it nicely. I was subject to the Jefferson County Fair. Dave's family is basically maniacal about the fair, because they show cows, and never in my life have I witnessed anything like it.

I had attended the JeffCo Fair once before, BH- Before Harrison. Listen to all of the tortures I was put through: scooping up cow feces, not once but three times, getting to peasant-child level of dirty, and almost having a cow trample me. To some people, these occurrences are fun, but to me, not so much. After the first time scooping poop I decided right then and there that it would be my last trip to the fair.

Oh how wrong I was.

Dave is still needed every year to help with the fair, prepping the cows, milking them at 3am, etc etc.. so I thought I would be a very nice baby momma and go with him. I was prepared for a full two days of torture in the form of Harrison's crying. Something worse happened, though. He actually went crazy for the fair, as in, LOVED it. He loved running around in the dirt and hay, watching the cows as long as they didn't get too close, and being one with the carnies and cow-obsessed.

TOO CLOSE, TOO CLOSE

What this means for me is that now, every year, I will be forced to go back. FORCED. And in a few years, Harrison will have to (or want to) show the cows, which means I will have to help him, and that requires poop-scooping. I realize that parents have to make sacrifices for their kids, but WHY?? I cannot handle this one.

If nothing else, at least I'll get some cute pictures out of it.

I'm definitely not saying that I don't like the cows, because I do. Especially after a year of the commiseration we had. I feel for ya lady cows, lactation is no walk in the park. Yesterday, I watched one lady leak milk for over two hours and I wanted to cry for her, because I understand how uncomfortable it is. I also really enjoy milk and dairy products, so actually, I might even love the cows.

Cute from afar

I just want no part in cleaning them, wiping their asses, or collecting their BMs in a bucket. Good thing I'm marrying into a family of dairy farmers...

You're doomed, mommy

And speaking of dairy, I am officially done with breastfeeding as of yesterday. Actually not done yet, because I am about to explode with milk at the moment. I cannot move because, well, it hurts. It's been a good 50 hours without nursing. Just use your imagination. Please lord, make this torture end soon.

I probably picked a really horrible time to engorge myself because tomorrow is the big move! If my boobs don't sort themselves out by tomorrow, I'm in for a really fun, painful experience. Everyone pray. Please. Now.